


Revenge

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Closure, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: “'So is this part of it? Are you some figment of my imagination—Some apocalyptic vision of the future where the incompetent banished prince not only grows old and presumably continues to embarrass my Nation, but in which he actuallybecomesFire Lord?''I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you,' smirks Zuko. 'But no. This is real. I brought you out of the Fog.'"Zuko and Zhao, in the Spirit World.





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Working on an earlier fic, _Adrift_ \--also on AO3--got me thinking about Zuko's relationship with Zhao, and this was the result of that line of inquiry!
> 
>  
> 
> I imagined this taking place between Books 3 and 4 of _Legend of Korra_ , but it could presumably take place any time after Book 2. 
> 
> (And knowledge of LoK isn't strictly necessary to get what's going on in this fic!)
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing that Zuko notices is that Zhao almost looks young. (Well, not _young_ , not really. He looks like a man half-crazed—and after over seventy years in the Fog of Lost Souls, Zuko cannot blame him—and that does little for his youthful appearance. But in Zuko’s memories, Zhao is always formidable, always older. Because he _was_ so much older than Zuko when he died. But the man had been—what? Thirty-five years old? Forty? Practically a child, when compared to Zuko’s almost ninety years.)

Zhao gasps, assuming a bending form when he comes to himself and finally notices Zuko standing in front of him. “I am Zhao the conquer! Zhao the—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” interrupts Zuko, waving a hand. “You’re Zhao the Moon-Slayer, and you _will_ capture the Avatar.”

The apparition of the other man slowly drops his stance, creases his eyebrows in apparent confusion. “Who…?”

“Don’t you recognize me, Zhao?”

There is a pause, a silent moment, and then Zhao’s eyes widen. “Prince Zuko…?”

“It’s Lord Zuko now, but yes.”

“ _Lord_? You— _Fire Lord_?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

“But Ozai—”

“Ozai’s been dead for years. But he was dethroned long before that—only about six months after you died, in fac—“

“ _Died_?!”

“Yes.” Zuko tries not to smile at how Zhao seems to topple, how he sinks to the ground. Zuko follows, crossing his legs into a lotus position as he sits opposite him.

“I’m _dead_?!”

“Indeed, you are.”

“How can that be?! Where are we?!“

There is an immense amount of pleasure, Zuko thinks, in recognizing the rage of his own youth in Zhao, and even more pleasure when he is able to respond calmly as Uncle once had done to him. “We’re currently in the Spirit World.”

“…It’s an afterlife?”

“Not for most people, no. The especially enlightened—people like my Uncle—can choose to leave their bodies behind at the end of their lives and come here. And sometimes, when you’ve displeased the Spirits, they drag you here to put you in a Spirit Prison for eternity. And you certainly displeased the Spirits, Admiral Moon-Slayer.”

“What do you mean, Spirit Prison? I haven’t been in any prison!”

“Oh, you certainly have. It’s called the Fog of Lost Souls. Apparently, it’s a Spirit itself that infects the mind and imprisons one in his own worst memories…What have you been reliving, Zhao?”

Zhao grits his teeth, but otherwise ignores Zuko’s question. “So is this part of it? Are you some figment of my imagination—Some apocalyptic vision of the future where the incompetent banished prince not only grows old and presumably continues to embarrass my Nation, but in which he actually _becomes_ Fire Lord?”

“I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you,” smirks Zuko. “But no. This is real. I brought you out of the Fog.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I wanted to speak with you. And I wanted you to be lucid when I did.”

“Well, then. Speak.”

“Don’t you have any questions for me?”

Zhao is quiet for a moment, like he doesn’t wish to succumb to Zuko’s prodding. But then relents to what Zuko suspects is a desperate curiosity. “The War?”

“Long over. Ending it was the first thing I did as Fire Lord.”

“You mean _you_ conquered the Earth Kingdom? _You_ took Ba Sing Se?”

“Well, I helped. It was mainly Azula. But—”

“She always was worthier of her blood than you.”

“So I grew accustomed to hearing in my youth. But, I helped her conquer Ba Sing Se months before I became Fire Lord. No, my uncle conquered it _back_ from the Fire Nation on the day of Sozin’s Comet, and my first act as Fire Lord was surrendering the War.”

“ _What_?!”

“You heard me correctly. I surrendered.”

“I always knew you were a traitor! Ever since you put yourself and your pointless quest for honor above our Nation’s interests! You are an embarrassment to—”

“It won’t work anymore, Zhao,” Zuko says calmly. “I admit that when you died, those words would have haunted me. In fact, after the defeat at the North Pole, I had a lot of time to think—my uncle and I ended up stranded on driftwood for several weeks. And in that time, I agonized over your death. I blamed myself for it. I thought that if I had just been a better ally to you, had just put our Nation above myself, then you would have grabbed my hand and lived. Or that the Siege of the North wouldn’t have been such a disaster for us after all. That everyone would have lived. I thought I was a traitor.”

“You _were_. You—“

“No, I was not. I _am_ not a traitor. In the end, I did what was best for our Nation, her people, and for the World. And I pity you, Zhao. That you think War and glory and devastation mean power, and that that is what strength and honor look like. You could not be more wrong.”

“You sound like your disgusting old uncle.”

“That is the highest compliment I could possibly receive.”

“Why are you really here.”

“Because it's taken me years, but I have faced and beaten every demon that has haunted me. Ozai, and Azula, and Sozin, and everything that I was, everything my family was, and the War was. I’ve beaten them all. Except you.”

“You couldn’t _beat_ me! I don’t care how much older you are, or if you _are_ the Fire Lord—”

“Was. My daughter is Fire Lord now.”

“I don’t care. You’ll always be the traitorous, selfish, pathetic, banished Prince, forever wandering around the world, looking for his honor. And _that_ could never beat me.”

“Oh, but I already have, Zhao.”

“Please.” Zhao rolls his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“The one thing you couldn’t stand more than dying, all those years ago, was me saving you. Me—someone who you thought was a traitor, even if I didn’t think so. Now, I freely admit to being everything you hate. I am the person who ended the War that you so loved, and I am proud of it. And I saved you. Not from death, but from the Fog, from whatever agonizing memories you were trapped in. You can decide to go back, of course, but that will have been your choice. I was the one that freed you.”

Zhao’s eyes widen slightly, as he gazes at Zuko, but he says nothing.

“Consider this my revenge, Zhao.” 

By the time Zhao responds, Zuko is already walking away, and he doesn’t bother listening to the words. His mind is clear; he is thinking only that he might find Uncle and share a pot of tea before returning to the Spirit Portal.

He knows he will never bother to think of Zhao again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I love comments! :)


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